


Scents

by The Raven and the Fox (RavenAndFox)



Category: Naruto
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-03-27
Updated: 2012-03-27
Packaged: 2017-11-05 05:56:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,553
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/403151
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RavenAndFox/pseuds/The%20Raven%20and%20the%20Fox
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Naruto knows the smell of that lightning all too well: it lacks the stormy air that comes with natural thunderstorms, bringing instead the crisp tang of chakra, a hint of a human odour. SasuNaru.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Scents

**Author's Note:**

> Warnings: Swearing, mentions of sex.
> 
> Author's Note: I'm not really sure what this is. Mostly it was written just to get some practice in, but I'm so rusty with my writing that I may as well be squeaking at the hinges. I'll save my criticisms for the end. In any case, I wrote this without stressing too much about the end product, so please enjoy it for what it is.

_Meet me at the logs at midnight._

These are the only words Naruto receives, the single sentence on a tiny slip of paper rolled up so tightly Naruto could have swallowed the pill in which it was hidden. Still, messenger hawks don't deliver capsules for no reason, and the lightning that struck the bird dead moments after it took flight was no accident. Naruto knows the smell of that lightning all too well: it lacks the stormy air that comes with natural thunderstorms, bringing instead the crisp tang of chakra, a hint of a human odour. Even the pungent ink on the paper can't mask the natural oils lodged safely in the grain by hands Naruto can almost feel just by inhaling their scent.

There's no question that Naruto knows exactly who the message is from.

 

"You're late."

"Obliterating that messenger hawk was unnecessary."

"I won't take any risks."

"Sneaking into the middle of Konoha isn't a risk?"

Shadows shift and there is Sasuke, sitting on the middle log in the training grounds like he's been there all along. Naruto is pretty sure he hasn't. He sensed Sasuke's chakra – masked though it may have been – and heard his voice, his movements. And he smelled him, that mix of dirt, sweat, and something that sizzles dangerously just under the surface. There are no qualitative words that even come close to capturing Sasuke. Nothing can.

"Konoha's ANBU are lax," says Sasuke. "Thought you'd like to know, Captain Uzumaki…  _Sir_."

"Thanks for the report," Naruto replies sarcastically, but there's a smile playing at his lips. "Well, if you think our security's that bad, why don't you try slipping back out again?"

Sasuke's presence all but vanishes the moment Naruto stops speaking (moments that are, to the relief of many, gradually recovering from endangered status). His scent, however, lingers, as does a faint chakra marking his path: though Sasuke has achieved a jutsu strikingly similar in execution and result to the Flying Thunder God, he does not actually transcend time and space, instead simply moving quicker than the mind can catch and leaving the ghost of a trail that an exceptionally skilled ninja might miss if he's observant. Naruto is not only observant, but has memorized the feel of Sasuke's presence and all the senses it embodies, and so he quietly strolls along behind the quickly fading trail.

At twenty-two years old, Naruto has finally gotten some basic shinobi principles into his brain. You prepare and pack before a mission. You assess the situation before barging in. You tell your teammates if you're splitting up, and agree on a time and place to return. And you never, ever just up and abandon your mission to follow a rogue, a murderer, an internationally condemned criminal to a place he refuses to specify.

But there is one thing he's always held onto, one truth that trumps all others:

He will drop everything and everyone to be with Sasuke.

The ANBU teams are good, but Naruto is better: he knows his subordinates, where they're stationed, what they're like, who's lax and who's alert. It's easy for him to slip out of the village, especially when the forces are focused mainly on stopping enemies from coming  _in_. That said, Sasuke slipped by them without causing even a slight disturbance, so Naruto's really going to crack the whip when he gets back.

He tracks Sasuke out of the village, trying to pin words to the trail he's following like nailing jelly to a tree. Sasuke smells like fire, but not like things burnt: rather, it is a sense of pure heat and flickering light, brighter against darkness, stronger in the cold. There is no charcoal in this scent, no collapsing wood or curling paper. What burns is the past.

They are at least a mile away from the ANBU patrol radius before Sasuke allows himself to exist in Naruto's vision once more, treading feathersoft on the forest floor and disturbing not a leaf, not a twig. Phantomlike in the moonless night, his form is obscured by black hair and black clothes; all Naruto can make out is hints of pale skin at his wrists, his ankles, his neck and face. He allows Naruto to pull up beside him and walk next to him, watching him carefully, aware that the smell is less obvious here instead of behind him, though the chakra is stronger. Their steps make almost no sound: there are only the wind and the crickets and the owls to lift the silence.

And so they walk. They walk for hours and Naruto is, he notices, at peace. He is distinctly aware of Sasuke's presence next to him: suppressed, his chakra is even more ominous than when he is at rest, compressed into the inch or two of air around him and flickering through the cracks like solar flares. But although Sasuke seems to grow tense and wary as time passes, Naruto becomes calmer, relaxing, until they are walking towards a paling horizon and Sasuke is becoming more visible, the light hardening the edges around his black-clad angular shoulders and slender legs, and it is with the coming dawn that Sasuke fades into vision as though summoned by birdsong.

There are no words; there is no speaking, not for hours. They are hardly concealing their presence, but all their senses are focused on their surroundings, snapping to every rustle and every click. Or perhaps not all. Because there is a part of each of them that is carefully, delicately maintaining a constant, explicit awareness of the other: Sasuke's scent in the crisp air; Naruto's steady heartbeat in the silence; their chakra signatures brushing between them and creating a link that no physical contact could ever achieve, a link born of years of trial and error, finding the medium between invasion and avoidance. It took some time, but they've figured out how to walk side by side without degenerating into a fight that will leave their immediate surroundings permanently charred, and it's a start. Even now there are things that are so routine as to be mundane – the hawk, the message, the rendezvous and the escape – and others they haven't quite perfected yet – communication, trust, and a way of touching that doesn't end with them both gathering enough cuts and bruises to leave Sasuke nursing his wounds for weeks and leaving Naruto, healed within days, fidgeting back home and longing for more. It's not just the touch he craves, though – it's certainly a factor, but even now, just walking next to Sasuke with no one around for miles, he can fill himself with that smell, the sound of his breathing, the sensation of his chakra, and he feels perfectly at home.

_Home is where the heart is._

Sasuke turns his head sharply, eyes fixed on Naruto, who's taken aback at the sudden intensity of his stare – and then realizes he's spoken aloud. The sound of his voice rings in his ears, loud against the backdrop of nature. He stares back, almost afraid to be meeting Sasuke's gaze but at the same time terrified of pulling away, until Sasuke's expression relaxes and he lets out a small breath.

"Whatever you say, moron," Sasuke mumbles, and starts down an outcropping of rocks.

They descend without another word into a deep, rocky ditch, the dry product of what once must have been a stream, carving the earth over millennia. The bottom is already covered with layers of autumns past, turning into new soil, some of the tougher plants taking root in whatever cracks and crevasses they can find. The further they walk downstream, the deeper the trench becomes, until the ground is above their heads and the sides begin to swell outwards, more like a round tunnel with an open top than a V-shaped gorge. Naruto's beginning to wonder what this is all about when Sasuke ducks down to the left and leads him into a small opening he wouldn't have noticed even if he were looking. But Naruto knows better than to ask anymore, so he silently follows Sasuke down the small, curved path, ducking to avoid cracking his head open on the rocky ceiling, until they reach what appears to be a wooden door. Sasuke makes a few hand signs and presses his palm to the door, then reaches for the handle and turns it. The door swings towards them without complaint.

Their hideaway this time around is a single, sparse, windowless room carved right out of the rock. From what little light has bounced down the tunnel and peeks through their arms and legs into the room, Naruto can make out the lines of a bed in one corner, a wooden table in another. There doesn't seem to be much else.

"In," says Sasuke, gesturing, and Naruto enters. After the brightness of dawn, this lightless room is nearly pitch. Instead he switches priority to his other senses, discarding the crutch of vision until it's had a chance to recover. The air in the room feels to him barely enough to constitute a closet; any sound bounces harshly, dying fast on the rough walls. The table itself could be sat on if one was careful, though not with the large lantern and several candles currently nestled in the back against the stone. The table sits snugly against the bed, which is surprisingly built for two – if the two were small, a word used seldom to describe either Naruto or Sasuke, who both easily clear five foot nine now. Naruto could brush the ceiling with his fingertips standing flat on his feet. On the other side of the bed is more wall; about a foot of space separates the bottom of the bed from the door. The room is cold, deadening smells, of which currently are predominantly mineral and earthy, though there's a hint of wax and oil in the air that suggests neither recent occupation nor weeks of abandonment.

"Well this is cosy," Naruto mutters, not bothering to hide the sarcasm in his voice. "I notice there's no bathroom. I guess it's bushes and mosquitoes for us, then, huh?"

"Sorry I couldn't find us a honeymoon suite," Sasuke deadpans. He lights the lantern and the candles with a couple of hand signs, then shuts the door and bolts it. "It's not exactly easy to find a seclusion and privacy within walking distance of Konoha. We're running out of new places."

"That's why I've been saying, it wouldn't hurt to revisit some places again. It's not like they're searching for us or anything. I mean, really, Sasuke. A cave?"

"It was the best I could do in a hurry, alright?" Sasuke snaps. Then he sighs, the tension in his shoulders lifting visibly. "I… couldn't wait."

Naruto, who was about to retort, finds the words washed away at Sasuke's admission. To Sasuke, everything is a weakness: emotion, desire, affection. Naruto wonders just how badly Sasuke wants this, to be able to voice it in words that embody all three of those.

"Come back to Konoha," Naruto whispers. "Come home, Sasuke."

Sasuke turns away, towards the flames, and says nothing. Naruto watches the light dance against Sasuke's high cheekbones, his lean face, his slender neck. Only Sasuke could make fire a soft element – only juxtaposed with his crackling lightning do the flames become gentle and subdued.

"Forget all this – all this searching and running and hiding," he says, moving closer. "Come home with me."

"I don't want to talk about this," says Sasuke, and turns and pushes Naruto onto the bed.

Naruto finds, once his ANBU uniform has been peeled off by an impatient Sasuke, that a room where all six sides are stone doesn't lend much warmth. Sasuke, however, does: as cold as he seems on the outside, within his passion burns hotter even than Naruto's. Not that that's anything new, but Naruto always makes a point of etching every detail into his memory. The determination in Sasuke's eyes, a mark of his refusal to admit anything in words and to instead show everything in actions. The cold sting of Sasuke's hands in the first minutes, before their activity makes up for his poor blood circulation. The sensation of Sasuke finally forgetting to continue withholding his chakra, of his aura suddenly exploding into the room and filling Naruto as Sasuke kisses him fiercely. The flavour of Sasuke's mouth, of his skin. The sound of his breathing increasing as they join together, of the tiny moans and groans that escape the barrier he tries so hard to maintain. And the smell – the smell of Sasuke's hair, his sweat, his presence above and below and around Naruto. Sasuke smells like the darkest of thunderstorms, lightning piercing the blackness with a blinding crack, illuminating Naruto's body with every strike. Their trysts are few and far between – too much so for either of them – and Naruto knows it'll be a while before Sasuke agrees to come home, so he carefully stores these scents and senses to recall later on a rainy day, during a battle, while he makes dinner, as he settles into bed alone.

The day is still young and they have no commitments (well, Naruto does, but he's willing to take a couple of days off), so they leave the now-stuffy cave and find a sturdy tree in which to share lunch. The first one Naruto climbs has a nest with a fiercely protective mother owl in it, screeching and flapping in his face. Sasuke smirks as he watches from below, but he picks the twigs and dirt out of Naruto's hair later. This is the way Sasuke loves Naruto, and Naruto can't ask for more. On the other hand, when Sasuke slips on a rock in the stream, Naruto's first instinct is to lunge to catch him, and one way or another he's the one who ends up spluttering and cold and wet, while Sasuke stands on the bank in mild surprise. This is the way Naruto loves Sasuke, and Sasuke thinks Naruto's overdoing it but really he can't complain.

"Sasuke?" says Naruto, as they lie in a soft patch of grass and watch the sun sink towards the horizon. "What are you going to do with your life?"

Sasuke is silent for a moment. "What's that supposed to mean?" he finally asks.

"Goals." Naruto waves his hand vaguely. "Hopes, dreams, aspirations. What do you have left?"

This time, Sasuke doesn't speak at all. Naruto rolls over, and he sees that Sasuke's got that look in his eyes that means he has a definite answer – he's just not willing to voice it.

Naruto offers a suggestion. "How about your clan? Wouldn't want to lose the Uchiha name."

"I'd be glad to ditch the name," Sasuke scoffs. "Keep the genes, keep the Sharingan. But lose the name. It's too bloodstained."

Naruto smirks. "Marry me, then, and be an Uzumaki!"

The punch Sasuke throws never finds its mark; Naruto has seen it coming and he dodges easily, still with that stupid grin on his face.

"You wouldn't catch me  _dead_ with the name Uzumaki," Sasuke scoffs, and tries a kick. Naruto blocks it and pushes Sasuke off-balance; Sasuke catches himself on his hands and then they're sparring, armed with only their bodies and their chakra – although these are formidable weapons in their own right. Sasuke knows Naruto was (mostly) joking, and Naruto knows Sasuke's (mostly) not really angry, but they don't need an excuse to have a quick battle. All they really do during their meet-ups is eat, sleep, fight, and fuck, but it suits them just fine.

They spar long into the afternoon, finding themselves travelling slowly through the trees as they trade blow after blow, gradually collecting bruises and burns, scratches and scrapes, wearing themselves and each other out. Sasuke's military activity has been on the low side as of late, so these matches are good practice for him when he's sick of training alone. Naruto runs into trouble on a regular basis, but it's never much of a challenge and he relishes really being pushed to his limits by Sasuke. Sometimes it's more of a dance than a fight, as the hours stretch on and they begin to go through the motions automatically – kicking and punching, blocking and dodging, following the rhythms and the patterns when they're too tired to even consider attempting to fake each other out. It becomes less of a competition and more of a spot of training, where the aim is not to win but to gain experience. Onwards they push, unrelenting, until Sasuke stumbles backwards over a tree root and Naruto overshoots his punch and they tumble in a heap into the grass, finding themselves at the edge of a field.

There they remain for a few minutes, too exhausted to move. Naruto has it better than Sasuke; he doesn't have the weight of a grown man crushing his lungs, and anyway Sasuke's always been leaner no matter how much muscle he's tried to build. Still, he doesn't budge until Sasuke gives a weak cough and gently pushes Naruto aside. Naruto rolls onto his side next to Sasuke, heaves a deep breath, and smiles.

"Shall we call it a tie?" he murmurs.

Sasuke lets his head roll sideways and just looks at Naruto. It is a mark of how much Naruto is learning, being the first to voice the idea of relenting, no matter how equal it's meant to sound; asking for a tie is the same as admitting you didn't win, which is the same as defeat. But this is something Naruto is starting to learn about his relationship with Sasuke, and about life in general: it's okay to bow out sometimes. It's okay to be the first to concede, because in the long run it won't matter – the amount of time the two of them have spent butting heads is disproportionate to the satisfaction the eventual winner gets, especially with the disgruntled disappointment from the other negating some of that smug pride. Naruto is starting to understand that being stubborn isn't worth it, and he thinks Sasuke is starting to see that this relationship is give-and-take:  _giving_ is also  _taking_ pleasure in the receiver's happiness, and that's a kind of selflessness too.

"If you want," says Sasuke, and closes his eyes.

They lie there until the sun has set and the warmth has seeped out of the air, then they wearily help each other up and head back to their little cave, wordless, hand in hand. Once again they're thoroughly cold by the time they reach the chilly stone room, and once again they take it as an excuse to share body heat and passion. Sasuke reads love in the way Naruto's hands roam as though devouring him; Naruto reads love in the way Sasuke pulls him closer as though afraid he'll disappear.

 

Naruto pulls on his shirt and pauses to listen to the dawn chorus. As he does so, he catches the scent of lightning and fire – Sasuke's scent. Sasuke's shirt.

"Oi, moron."

He pokes his head through the collar. "Just wear mine."

Sasuke rolls his eyes, but accepts Naruto's shirt from him. He sticks his arms through, then pauses, looking contemplative.

"Sasuke?"

Sasuke's gaze slowly rises to meet Naruto's. "It smells like you," he says quietly.

And Naruto smiles. "Something to remember me by."

"Let me clarify. It smells like your sweat." Sasuke pulls it on despite his words. "Let's go, dobe. We've spent too much time here."

They leave the little stone room – Sasuke seals it with another set of hand signs and then they're off, back up the ditch, along the stream, through the trees. Though their trip here was deadly silent, now in the daylight their talk is easy, casual. Sasuke talks about the things he's seen as he's passed through various countries and villages. Naruto talks about the people back home. Sakura's doing extensive research on portable, chakra-infused medicines. Kakashi continues to test aspiring Genin with his two-bell challenge, sending three kids back to the academy each year without fail. Sai, Shikamaru, Neji, Tenten, and Hinata are all ANBU, the others Jounin – some teaching, some running missions, some overlooking exams. Long gone are the days of the Rookie Nine, but only because they are no longer rookies, nor are there only nine of them. As Naruto dives headfirst into a recounting of one of their reunions, in which they managed to get Gaara and his siblings to visit for a few days, Sasuke starts to piece together pictures in his mind: the red bridge where they waited for Kakashi for endless mornings, the top of the Hokage's tower overlooking the village, the ramen stand where Naruto always dragged them after missions. He can almost hear the villagers, playing children and chatting adults and the clash of blades at the academy; he can almost smell the wind that blows through the streets at night. The taste of Konoha he got when he snuck in a few nights ago fuels his imagination, as does the enthusiasm with which Naruto tells his stories.

They stop for lunch in a sunny clearing. Naruto shuts up to eat, which Sasuke is initially grateful for. But as the silence begins to stretch on, even after they're done, he starts to fidget. Instead of having gained peace and quiet, Sasuke seems to have lost something instead. Naruto, so animated during his endless anecdotes, has become pensive and solemn. It's a side of Naruto that Sasuke is starting to see more and more, along with the breaks in the once incessant chatter, and Sasuke's not sure it's worth the silence after all.

Naruto gazes out into the forest, thinking, wondering, forgetting. The events of the past few days are already becoming memories, fading from his body into his mind, becoming intangible and colourless. Already Naruto has forgotten the precise pitch of Sasuke's voice, the feel of his fingers, the smell of his sweat. He can't let these things go; Sasuke is right here next to him and who knows how long it'll be before Naruto will see him again? And so, without another thought, without even considering their safety or privacy, Naruto whirls around and pushes Sasuke to the ground and kisses him hard.

They make love once, twice, then fall asleep in the grass and awake several hours later, baking in the afternoon sun. Sasuke complains about burns and how all Naruto will do is tan more, and Naruto just sighs and puts his shirt (Sasuke's shirt, really) back on and they keep walking. Naruto holds Sasuke's hand, gently at first, but more and more tightly as the sun crawls across the sky, as though afraid to let Sasuke go. And of course he is – soon, sooner and sooner as they march on, Sasuke will say, this is where we part, and he'll vanish and Naruto will be stuck waiting for their next reunion and the sensations will fade from his body again, and then from his mind and then from his heart, and all he'll be left with is longing, endless longing. And so he walks and begins to recognize the trees around him and says nothing and hopes that maybe Sasuke will, he doesn't know, forget he's avoiding Konoha, and just walk right in with him and not realize he's settling down and talking to Tsunade and getting a job and living with Naruto and spending the rest of his life with him. Better to hope for a shooting star to land on his house.

So by the time they stop in front of the great wooden doors at sunset, it's understandable that Naruto's so tense he's almost shaking and he could crush Sasuke's hand in his own. Surprisingly, Sasuke hasn't said a word about either of these things. They stand there for a long time, Naruto staring at his feet, Sasuke taking in the sight of the doors. It's been years since he's seen even these, the gateway out of his past – and into his future.

"…So," Naruto finally says, and his voice is gruff, but only to mask something deeper. "I guess this is it."

Sasuke nods, takes a deep breath. "This is it," he agrees.

Naruto pries his hand open and lets Sasuke go. Sasuke massages his hand, the feeling returning to his fingertips in sharp prickles, and tries to say something, but the words get stuck in his throat.

"Thanks for… thanks for coming," Naruto mumbles. "For the… date, or whatever you wanna call it."

Sasuke tries again. Tries to explain that he can no longer bear being away from Naruto, that he doesn't want to turn away again, that he's ready to turn the tides and be the one following Naruto to the ends of the earth. But all he can manage is, "You don't have to be formal about it."

He wants to kick himself after that. If Naruto is being even a little formal, Sasuke is the epitome of casual, steering away from any sort of seriousness so fast he may as well make this talk a comedy.

But Naruto just grunts in reply. He stares at his feet for a moment, shuffles some dirt around with his toe, then looks up at Sasuke and takes in the sight of him one last time – his pale skin and sleek black hair; his bright, hard-fire eyes; his lean figure in Naruto's baggy shirt and his legs so slender in his own trousers. And he can't bring himself to step closer, to reach out for a kiss or a hug or even a handshake. He just stuffs his hands deep in his pockets, says, "I'll see you around, then," and turns to go.

He pushes the gate open, then remembers he went missing four days ago. The guards manning the gate seem rather more surprised by his return than he'd have expected – by now Konoha's fairly used to Naruto's disappearances, so this kind of reaction is a little uncalled for.

"N-Naruto," stammers one of the guards. "I didn't realize – is this what you – what you keep leaving for?"

"Huh?" Naruto stares for a moment, then flushes bright red. "W-w-what? That's not – I mean, how'd you – I wasn't—"

Naruto nearly has a heart attack when a hand rests itself on his shoulder. Flustered and on the defensive, he whips around, ready to make a break for it – and sees Sasuke.

Sasuke, standing on this side of the gate, within the boundaries of Konoha.

"You… brought him home," says the guard. "You've done it, Naruto."

"I – I…" Naruto can barely believe his eyes. "Sasuke, what are you—?"

"I've decided," says Sasuke slowly. "I'm done with this… all this running away. Let me face my mistakes, and let me face my future."

The realization is clear on Naruto's face. He cracks a smile, then chuckles, and soon he's laughing in relief and amazement, hugging Sasuke so tightly Sasuke fears cracking his ribs, but it's so wonderfully worth it that he'd break every bone in his body just to be here with Naruto. He smiles too and slides his hands around Naruto's waist, and as the breeze lifts his spirits, it brings with it the scent of summer, of fresh air and sun, and of home.

**Author's Note:**

> I know what some of you might say to me: "But R+F, that was amazing and succinct and beautiful! Stop putting yourself down!" Well, even if it is those things, it is also not a lot of things I'd like it to be. Consistent, perhaps, is one of them, and planned is another.
> 
> Let me make a brief parallel to my line of work here. (I say that, but I'm only studying animation, not doing it professionally yet.) When you animate a scene, you typically start by making a plan of what the movement will be and then drawing out the key poses, the most important parts. Then you break down some of the finer, more subtle movements, and finally you add all the frames in between. That's the best way to do it. Sometimes, however, you'll find you can do a simple scene in what is called a "straight-ahead" manner, meaning you just draw one frame after the other with no keys to anchor you to what you're doing. It's not usually any help, but can work in bits and pieces and is less confusing to the chronologically-organized mind.
> 
> That's kind of how I wrote this fic: straight-ahead, with barely any planning as to what was going to happen or even what the conflict to resolve was. The premise was "Naruto and Sasuke do this kind of eloping thing about once a month" and I didn't even know Sasuke was going to come back until about halfway through. This is probably why the story, to me at least, feels disjointed. For another thing, it feels a lot longer than it actually is, because I wrote about 50% more than actually shows here. Twice I came up with long, detailed and emotional scenes that I had to cut out because they were taking the story to a place I didn't want. I would have liked to keep them, but sometimes you just have to pick the lesser of two evils, or whatever the appropriate phrase is.
> 
> Maybe I shouldn't be saying any of this. Maybe you wouldn't notice the problems with my writing if I hadn't pointed them out, or maybe you still don't see them. But art is not created in a vacuum, and my thought processes and struggles and triumphs are important to me. Whether or not you share my opinions is up to you, but if you have any tips on how to improve my writing, or maybe break this writer's block, please do let me know.
> 
> That said, there are things I like about this fic. (If there weren't, I wouldn't post it.) I had quite a bit of fun trying to describe scents in various different ways. Smell is a powerful and underrated sense, inextricably linked with taste, often hard to recall in any useful way and yet the most evocative in terms of memory and emotion. Scent is a very personal thing for me, as I store it in my mind as one of the many things I use to identify people. Not that I actively use it to tell who's behind me or anything like that, but I bet you if you tested me I could. I've recently been through a bit of an emotional event in my life, and one person's smell has become very close to me. I don't know how to explain this, but anyway it's probably part of the reason I decided to write this. I know it kind of derails in the middle, but I'm not too worried about that.
> 
> Another thing I enjoy, now that I've written my share of explicit sex scenes, is writing implicit sex scenes. How much can I say without outright explaining it? What words can I use to evoke the emotions and the sensuality? How do I put the focus on the non-physical feelings? Do I imply who's "topping" during intercourse, or do I leave it ambiguous? All things I like to play around with.
> 
> Thanks for reading.
> 
> R+F


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